WYWUS
by Som3on3
Summary: You see I died. Not yet anyways but I died later on. This story is about the precious (laughable) moments of the times when I was still alive and breathing. How I got transported to another world, how my adopted mother is in the mafia and how my ex-boyfriend becomes an international criminal. Wonderful. OC SI
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMEr: Do not own KAtakyo Hitman REborn**

**Hello, how are you guys? Before you read on i want to explain the concept of this story. This is an OC self insert story about a girl who died and is retelling her story. I just want to clear this up so you'll understand it :)**

**I would also like the names of the candidates that the OC should end up with.**

**Hope you enjoy :O**

* * *

_"Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is to not stop questioning." —Albert Einstein_

* * *

_**Chapter one: I cried for fear**_

The intention to captivate the audience is what the introduction of a story has in mind. A fairy tale is read and often, one would hear the words 'Once upon a time,' to give it an eternal feeling. Conversations between two or more usually starts with the words 'My name' or 'I am'. Today, this story is going to take a different turn.

Names hold power and that's the very reason why I won't tell mine.

(Even amnesiac people have names, for they hold identification and a feeling of belonging. Names are what shape a person into whom they become.)

You see I died.

Not yet anyways but I died later on. And it's a fundamental truth of life, everyone will die at one point. But since this is the beginning of my story I haven't died yet. Everything was still 'happy happy'. This story is about the precious moments of the times when I was still alive and breathing. It all began with orange skies, calm seas and my boyfriend. Beautiful hues were everywhere and everything felt anomaly perfect.

(There is however, no such thing as perfection because the world is cruel and there will always be a negative aspect.)

This, is still set in the beginning where everything is joyful, where I was content. It felt like any other day, but on the back of my neck I couldn't help but over think. The words 'calm before a storm' is exactly what I was thinking of.

Think. Thought. Thinking.

I have this lazy habit of thinking and well, I thought that 'what if today isn't like any other day' even with the state of normality everything seemed to be in—

"You okay babe?" I snapped out of my thoughts, blinking at the suave male voice.

"I..." paused, blurting 'oh, hey I have this strange feeling that something bad is going to happen' didn't seem like a good idea, so I quickly made up my mind and gave him my signature smile "I'm fine."

"You're lying."

His answer made me sigh, leave it to Blake to figure me out.

Blake; my boyfriend, my best friend and the most popular male in school. Honestly, I had no idea why he asked me out. Fate seemed to intertwine the oddest people together. Me, an odd wall flower and him, the Adonis worthy student.

(Fate; the inevitable, the very subject that strings everyone and anyone together, because no matter how small the meeting, it will always have a great impact.)

Not to mention his creepy fake foresight, glint-y eyes, enigmatic smiles and the fact that he lies through his teeth. Always concealing all intentions, each emotion in front of so many people. I, however, stayed quite, knowing the pain it would cause if he answered. Because why think of the past when you live for today and hope for tomorrow?

I encircled my arms around his neck "Don't worry, it's just a thought."

"Your thoughts are usually ri—"

I quickly cut off his sentence, giving him a passionate kiss. We broke apart after, I'm going to cut it short, 4 seconds. "Forget about it."

Blake gave 'the look', reminding me of Gibbs's stare from NCIS. Or should I rephrase my words and say 'the wizened stare.'

"Alright."

I frowned, not liking the new expression that slowly painted itself over his usual smiles. Letting go, we began an unofficial staring contest before giggles and snorts erupted from our mouths. Calloused hand grabbed my wrist, he grinned and shouted "Come on!"

"Where to?"

"Ad mare."

The main characters, in many stories, hated normality. Hated their sad life in general. Even if the author didn't describe it on paper, it was obvious that they want out. All were bitter, seeing the imperfection of life and not it's beauty. I was different back then, I loved my life, I appreciated it. I may not be someone famous, only a character amongst billions, but I was loved by many and I treasured that.

Psh.

I was so wrong.

SPLASH!

"You're thinking too much babe."

I rolled my eyes "No I'm not."

"Yes, yes you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"No—hey, you sure this is safe?"

He grinned "With me, it's always alright, Sepira."

Mama say what?

Did he just say what I think he said? I was really tempted to say 'mother fucker bitch what the hell didja say' but I'm not that type of person or at least in the outside I'm not that type of person. Most people, including Blake, sees me as the sweet kind girl next door. And I was willing to always keep that facade, as a false protection.

Being manipulative will bite me in the ass.

"Excuse me?" I asked, pushing myself away from him.

Sepira.

He said the name with so much Sep in the name means 'seven' coming from the Latin language, thus the month 'September'. Ira, can define many things. In Basque it means fern, Fijian means they, in French it's a verb, interlingua 'future of ir', in Italian it means wrath, Latin anger, Old Saxon her, Portuguese rage and Spanish; ire.

Literally the name meant 'seventh wrath'.

How could such a rage full name be voiced in such a loving way?

Blake looked at me in surprise "Babe I—"

I smiled, trying to keep it un-menacing, failing terribly at it. I mean what girlfriend wouldn't when their boyfriend just said another girl's name? I felt incredibly naive, heartbroken. Thinking that I, with obvious exceptions such as his mother and grandmother, am the only girl in his world. I had hoped for a Cinderella story, it sounded selfish, arrogant and honestly? I should've never thought like that.

"Who's Sepira?"

"She's...look I..."

I gave him minutes, I gave him time.  
He never answered.

"Blake...I..." this was pitiful, I couldn't even choke out any words.

There had to be a reasonable explanation. I gazed upwards trying, pleading to see the joking smirk he always gave me. But nothing. Absolutely nothing. This really reminded me of a sappy love story. If I were younger I would've seethe in anger just like the definition of her name. However, I'm eighteen and I'm trying my hardest to understand. Though I really wanted to beat the crap out of him. This Sepira must be someone special. I felt the gut wrenching bubbling in my stomach, the air becoming denser and yes, I am jealous.

"It's fine I"'m trying to "understand."

I walked away from the sea "Come on, let's go and eat."

(Worst. Mistake. Ever.)

We went to Papa's Pizza, not many people were there but it was enough to keep the staff busy and neither one of us bothered to start a conversation. Blake had this pained look on his face and I hated it. I clenched my fist in annoyance.

"Look—"

"Babe I—"

We both paused before quick looking away. Talk about awkward.

"You first," he insisted.

"Blake...whoever this Sepira is, I won't bother you again. But, but I'm your girlfriend as well as your best friend. So even if it's not today, you can always trust me," I offered him my signature smile.

(A smile that I will forever smile, because even though I have two personas that smile will always be from the heart.)

He shook his head "I do trust—"

BANG!

"Put your hands in the air!"

3..2...1..Action.

As if on cue, screams tore the restaurant. Blake protectively stood before me, blocking my view of the armed people. I sidestepped a few inches, trying to get a better look. Around a dozen men, all foreign and wearing dark clothes, stood with tiered, sorrowful faces. They held lethal looking weapons, exchanging whispers in what sounded like Spanish or Portuguese.

"Listen up!" growled the leader. Judging by the way he walked, how he held himself and the confident aura he emitted signifies that. His face is tanned, multiple of hairline scars gathered at his left temple. Callused hands meant that he was used to holding weapons probably since his mid teens, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose indicates that it's be fractured multiple of times. The limp on his right leg showed that he was injured, two weeks ago. He didn't have the sway or the tenseness in his posture, a bit slouched with his chest a bit puffed out. This tells me that he lived a normal childhood only for his parents to be murdered from the three rings hanging from a necklace, lover too. The way he wore the suit made him look slightly uncomfortable giving me a hypothesis that he joined this group in his mid twenties. Bags hung underneath his eyes; mourning or stress and drinks alcohol, vodka most likely. Definitely the Alpha that has been through too much.

(A reluctant lone wolf driven by sadness.)

And yes, you could say that I'm very calculative.

"We're looking for a person," his voice echoed as he trailed around the room. His footsteps made a deafening click with each movement, every customer and staff held their breath. His eyes grazed all, inspecting, searching, yearning.

The man is desperate.

It was then that I noticed that Blake now fully stood in front of me. His back completely tensed when Alpha-man got closer. Not that I could blame him since the guy is bat shit scary.

"A murderer, a killer who's killed dozens. Mentally unstable. It's simple, you come out or each and every one of these people are killed!"

Panic.

This made no sense...a 'killer whose killed so many', why would Alpha-man threaten a group of strangers when it's clear that this 'murderer' is a total psychopath who wouldn't care? Unless there was a hidden meaning to it—

BANG, BANG!

"Shut up! Come out! We know you're here!"

They were blind, not knowing what he looked like. So this 'man or woman' could be some sort of assassin or hitman that hides their face. And these pack of wolves found some info that lead them to a Papa's Pizza, a small pizza palette located in an almost non-existent town.

"Babe, I want you to stay still," his voice low and careful. I gave Blake a confused look "What?" Unable to ask more, Blake unexpectedly pulled me into a tight embrace.

(James Bond. The whole situation was either James Bond, Ethan Hunt or at least Alex Rider. Guys in suits? Check. Guns? Check. Undercover teenager? Check.)

Blake shoved his hands out and...holy shit! Flames sprouted out of his palms! Like, black and white flames!

"B-Blake!" I screeched the same time as the man shouted "Byakuran!"

A malicious expression crawled onto Blake—or whoever he really is—making a shiver run down my spine.

I don't like this at all.

Guns were pointed at him, his reaction?

"Maa~ why don't we all calm down? And Signore, you do know the extent of my powers ne?"

I'll repeat it, I don't like this. At. All. You don't just say something like you're talking with your friends when guns are pointed at you!

I'm more used to the teasing full Blake. With his prominent dimples and mystifying eyes. This person is a stranger. Too lazed for the situation, pale lips stretched out like Joker and eyes dangerously slanted, terrifyingly calculating. This isn't Blake, well at least it isn't the Blake I know. Eighteen-year-old Blake still had that teenage awkwardness in his posture, his movements were still hesitant and his smiles were pure. The teen—no man, here is a veteran, acts like a sly fox and smiled like one too. His facade is hiding something deep, something sinister.

"Byakuran you are to be captured and executed for killing more than a third of the Cosa Family."

My Blake would never hurt a soul.

(SPOILER: Okay, in the future, that's a big fat lie. SPOILER END.)

This has to be some sort of joke. If so, began a voice in my head, then why does radiate killer intent?  
This Byakuran hummed in what sounds like delight "Too bad, I disagree. I'm not gonna die today."

Too shocked to do anything I stayed frozen, entranced at the hot flames engulfing us. Beautiful yet intense like hot water, it didn't hurt me. Instead, I slowly felt my mind harmonising; relaxed. But then I heard agonising wails, the smell of burnt bodies and laughter. Menacing, twinkling laughter.

Wings appeared on Bla-Byakuran's back and we flew into deep abyss of the night.

"W-what's happening! Why, what—please!" I manage to stutter out, shock ridden on my face. I can still feel the adrenaline inside of me. I'm flying with my not-so-sure-boyfriend who may be a criminal. This defies every law of gravity, it goes against Isaac Newton. Well, it didn't seem so weird since there are wings on his back but still! I blinked at the disappointment that flashed through his eyes.

"We'll be down in a sec, I promise."

And he kept it.

When we reached ground I instantly pushed him away from me. I don't want to admit that I'm scared to my bones, though not of him rather for him.

(Fear is an emotion. We fear the unknown, subjects that we have yet to understand. However, fear is what makes us humans. It is a part of humanity. And in time we will learn to accept our fears.)

I needed an explanation and perhaps I'll get a better understanding of the whole situation.

"Please," I begged not knowing what else to say.

I didn't see this Byakuran nor did I see awkward jock Blake. Instead it's a man with jaded eyes. His smirk vanished entirely and is replaced with a solemn thin line. Right hand reached out to me, gently stroking by left cheek. I couldn't hold it anymore; confused, scared, shocked. I cried.

He stood, right hand still on my cheek.

"Who-" I hiccuped "are you?"

Silence met me.

It felt like hours, suddenly the man broke it "I can't tell you."

I glared at him "How—"

"You need to remember on your own."

"What do you mean 'remember'! I'm perfectly fine! The problem is you Blake! Just. Who. Are. You!"

I felt my knees collapse and I cried silently yet harder.

"Please, remember."

His voice sounded strained. Pain lacing over it. Everything happened too fast; one moment we were at the beach without a care in the world, now I'm stuck with a person who could be a mass murderer. So I ran. I need time and I need space. I don't care whether or not this act is considered cowardly all I need is reason.

I want to go home.

(Wishes will be a fucking pain.)

* * *

The two couple began to argue, they were like day and night.

"Please the hu—" the man interrupted, not bothering to listen.

"Sepira they're using you!"

"No! You need to learn to understand—"

He could feel the rage building up and finally he let loose "You're dying because of them!"

**-x-x-x-**

"Arcobaleno, the rainbow. Our arched protectors."

**-x-x-x-**

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" question the red head.

His blond companion gave an all knowing smile before going back to his paper work "I promised her."

**-x-x-x-**

He tried to reach out for him, ire in his eyes "CURSE YOU!

**-x-x-x-**

"Till we meet again Luce," the woman nodded, smiling and waving. Little did he know this will be their last meeting. She could feel the lone tear cascading down her cheek.

**-x-x-x-**

His obsidian eyes glinted with amusement as he smirked "The world's greatest hitman."

**-x-x-x-**

The dark hair girl swung her legs; in and out as she sat the edge of the building. Her eyes gleaming like the twinkling stars above. She opened her mouth and her sweet voice cuts through the silent surroundings "You know I had a dreamed once."

"What happened?" asked the boy next to her, his light eyebrows raised.

She smiled, dimples on her cheeks "Reality."

* * *

My eyes snapped open and I met blue.

Blue.

Deep, clear blue. A beautiful colour that symbolised harmony, tranquility yet sorrow all the same.

I instantly jerked upwards, the last thing I can recall were gunshots, fights and that rather odd dream. I blinked, was everything from before unreal? Hope bubbled in my chest. If everything was a dream then Blake and I didn't fight nor did those people shoot Papa's, the name Sepira—

'Sepira, they're using you!'

The words echoed in my mind. There goes the name again; Sepira. However, that's the least of my worries right now. I need to get back home...

...wait, what?

I furiously looked around to see white sand, clear water, the scorching sunlight and the nice breeze that went along.

Where. The. Hell. Am. I?

I pulled myself up finding the feeling of my weight quite odd. I brushed my floor length hair away from my—I narrowed my eyebrows, last time I checked I had short nape length hair. I touched my face; once outlined with a delicate jaw and high cheekbones are now chubby. I brang my hands in front of me. My fingers aren't delicate and lithe anymore instead they were short and small.

I screamed.

Only to scream louder at the sound of my voice.

"Cosa è successo? Stai bene Bambina? [What happened? Are you alright child?]"

I turned around to face an attractive woman. She wore casual shorts and a pretty blouse, her blonde hair was carelessly braided and a pair of glasses sat at the bridge of her nose. The woman could've passed as a tourist but my judgement said otherwise. Her tense posture showed alertness and the way she held her left hand always brushed her waist indicated that there might be some type of weapon. The way she held herself hinted tat she worked for some type of intelligence but couldn't be since she wore a ring that looked like a mob trend. She was probably a normal girl wanting to work for intelligence but got dragged into the wrong crowd. Her eyes, an unnatural pink tried to look kind though couldn't with all the paranoia and monotone it has. They are deadly, a predator.

Double no: I am not alright and I can't speak Italian or Spanish.

"Mio non Italiano, English...?" I'm pretty sure I just said 'my no Italian, English'.

She looked at me in surprise before running towards me and putting her jacket over my shoulders, revealing countless of scars.

"Bambina why are you in such a state? You can speak English yes?" she asked in a gentle tone.

"No—I mean yes I can speak English but I don't know why I'm like this...is this a dream? It has to be! I-I-" the woman probably mistook my panic for shock as she patted my now very long hair.

"Hush. It is alright Bambina. My name is Orlanda. Let's bring you back home—"

Is this where the stranger danger rule apply? Because I have no idea and there can be a high chance of her bringing me to an auction. The possibilities are endless and I should know that every person in this world wears a mask to hide themselves *cough*Blake*cough*.

"No!"

"Perdono? [pardon]"

Oh gosh I'm starting to really act like a kid.

Orlanda gazed at me for a moment before chuckling "My Bambina, you are a cautious child. It is a good thing. But for now you need to trust me, we don't want you to stand naked around here do we?"

I accepted.

Which is stupid considering all those books I've read about kidnapping. But at the same time I didn't understand (probably because of body mentality that I am in). Because before one meets a friend aren't they strangers in the first place? Plus I was naked and felt really awkward.

I gaped at the black Maserati in front of me and holy macrons does it looked amazing. I went inside the car, slightly uncomfortable with the sand sticking against my skin, and the drive lasted for about forty five minutes at best. We stopped at a rather plain looking house with creme walls, red roof and a nice garden. The garage door open and I felt jaws drop at the amount of cars, the garage is definitely bigger than the house.

Orlanda saw me gaping and winks "I love my cars."

Once we are in the living room Orlanda gave me a t-shirt that would be more of a dress in this...body. After putting it on I sat on the comfortable couch and sipped the lukewarm hot chocolate. A nice silence filled the air for a few minutes before I broke it.

"Thank you."

"Hmm?" she looked up and I gave her my signature smile.

"You helped me, a mere stranger and even though I was quite hostile you still insisted. So thank you," I said and looked back at her to see surprise written on her face that gradually melted into a warm expression.

"You have a kind smile. Kind of reminds me of the skies."

I felt my eyes widen only to turn back to normal "Thank you, so where in Italy am I?"

"Sicily, may I ask what your name is?"

No, I mean, names hold power. I thought of a random name and said "Rue."

In English, the name means 'bitterly regret and wish it to be undone' yet Rue is also French for 'street'. Rue is also a type of genus linking it to the Ruta plant that has a rather nice smell. 'Rue' is also a character from the Hunger Games whom risked her life to save the main character, Katniss. Did I mention that Rue is also my favourite character? I literally brawled out my eyes when she died. The name's a lie and I can bet that Orlanda knew that as well. She didn't press further, simply asking more questions.

"What's you last name?"

"I...don't know."

These are the current options:  
1) I'm an orphan  
2) My parents never told me  
3) Tell her the entire truth

I'll just stick to number one because number two sounded stupid and if I told number three she'd probably send me off to a mental hospital. Just to be sure I counted the number of teeth I had, twenty. My estimation would be that I'm currently in a body of a four-year-old, something along the lines.

"I'm an orphan."

Weren't kids supposed to speak like 'I'mma dun haf a mommy nd daddy' or something like that?

Oh well, she can pass me off as a genius. That can totally work.

"Judging from your speaking patterns you're much smarter than others your age aren't you?"

Holy shit she took the bait, though considering that I'm talking in a speech pattern above my age I couldn't blame her.

"I guess so, all I remember before this is running."

"From what?"

(I wanted to understand, I honestly did. But the sick feeling in my chest prevented me to do so, the clogging in my throat made me say irrational things and the water in my eyes wanted to escape. I was scared of him.)

"Fear."

* * *

After our conversation I asked Orlanda if I could take a bath. I now stand in the bathroom, marvelling at the sight. Both the floors and walls are made of marble, there's a white bathtub with golden taps and a very expansive looking shower. I instantly turned the tap on the bathtub on, humming to myself as I waited the water to flow.

Truthfully, I wanted to look at myself in the mirror but the sink just has to be so tall.

I slip my clothes off and slid into the bathtub.

At that moment, I stared at my reflection.

Or the girl staring back at me.

Her hair long, uncut and could pass off as a blue in the light. Slightly tanned skin, chubby face and hetereochromic eyes. She even has the weird flower birthmark right at the centre of her chest. The girl, in my opinion, didn't look cute with her street brat hair and scowl.

My thoughts went back to Blake or Byakuran or someone.

Was everything a lie? I feel like thirteen-year-old girl having her first heartbreak. I began to cry, I hate this so much. Being lost, no clue of how I got transformed into a four-year-old and the madness concerning Blake. I wished everything was a dream.

For the first time, I saw all the negatives in life.

* * *

_What would have been a beautiful scenery; green grass, strong trees, a large river and a white gazebo was ruined with the dark grey clouds, lightning and rain. Wind howled with confusion, sadness and pain. Great, am I in another mysterious place? Except this one made me feel anxious. I began to panic as flashes of white came to me._

_"Calm down."_

_I clamped my palms over my ears, hallucinating is so in the top of my list "I can't."_

_"Why?" the voice asked._

_I saw flashes of Blake._

_"I...I'm scared!"_

_Flashes of hot burning flames._

_A boy._

_The rainbow._

_And—_

I woke up to the sound of people talking. Dragging myself off the bed I walk towards the door, my mind wondering to the dream...

...what was it about again? Tiptoeing to reach the handle, I peaked at the small opening. In the kitchen I saw Orlanda setting plates out whilst holding a phone. She smiled, nodded and said thank you in Italian(o) before hanging up. I opened the door wider, the smell of delicious food swaying to my nose. I could feel my mouth water.

(Food, I will soon realise, is a gift. Anyone that has the ability to gain food is fortunate."

"That smells so good."

Orlanda grinned "Buongiorno [Good morning]."

"Morning," I replied taking a seat at the dining table "What did you make?"

Orlanda placed the dishes on top of the table "Breakfast pizza; oregano, mozzarella and tomato. Served with grape juice. Bon appetite."

I took a bite of the pizza and moaned in delight, Italians are amazing cooks no doubt about it. It's almost as good as Papa's Pizza. I paused. Papa's Pizza; the gunshots, the screams, the flames and revelation. Not to mention my family, they'd be worrying about me right now! And that dream...I'm probably the most terrible person in the world at remembering things but I...my eyes widen the flashes! Of Blake, a boy, the rainbow and—

"Anything wrong?"

I blinked and looked up, shaking my head I asked "Who did you call before?"

"My boss. Asked if I could take the day off. After you eat brush your teeth and shower, we're going shopping."

When Orlanda said 'we're going shopping' I honestly thought that we were going to go a few blocks down. What I didn't expect is being on a plane heading towards Milan. I calculated all the odds in my mind, Orlanda wouldn't be able to afford all this unless she has no living relatives. My eyes widens in realisation; the fancy cars, nice bathroom and spare money. All would have been used on bills yet...Orlanda's alone. Just like me.

I frowned, here I am pitying myself while Orlanda is out doing the fullest in life. Her family are probably dead while I on the other hand know that mine's alive. It hit me like a ton of bricks: how selfish I am.

"Lonely," I whisper "You must be really lonely Orlanda." I grabbed her hand and gave her my signature smile "Don't worry I'll be here."

She raised an eyebrow, Orlanda's a smart woman she must've gotten my message "You're an odd one Bambina. Too perspective for your own good."

I only smiled wider and throughout the whole trip we watched Pinocchio.

Ironic really. As time passed I began to lie more than I usually do yet my nose never elongated. I dug deeper and deeper because if I keep lying I won't have to remember. And I hated it, lying made me feel as if I have a tumour inside of me. Slowly spreading cancer in my soul; eating me away, leaving destruction.

"Why did Pinnochio lie?"

"He lies because no one taught him right from wrong. That's why he has Jiminy Cricket, to help him," answered Orlanda.

Oops, did I say that outloud?

When we arrived at Milan I felt a sense of familiarity. I went here before, with my family. It was a short trip and would've been longer if my brother didn't get sick but I loved every second of it. The churches, high end fashion and luxurious cars, Milan felt like a dream. However, this Milan, the one in front of me looks-is slightly different.

There is no family. Speaking of family I wonder how they are—

"Alright," Orlanda began "let's start off with hair!"

We walked into a small salon with a homey yet elegant feeling to it. A man, couldn't be older than twenty, came up to us. He wore a black turtleneck and relatively loose jeans. Dark orange hair stuck up everywhere, a slightly snide smile. His eyes were a light turquoise colour and had the same uptight glint as Orlanda's. I couldn't see much because of the long sleeve turtleneck but from his build I could see agility and precision. His calloused hands indicates years of hard work with weaponry such as guns or knives. However, unlike Orlanda who is tense this man's body is more relaxed like...Blake or Byakuran. Yet the aura around him was more welcoming and had a sense of tiredness. In conclusion he's like Blake: a veteran.

(Veteran. Vet-er-an. A person who has had a long experience in a particular field.)

From the corner of my eyes I could see a row of women glaring at Orlanda, seething with envy. I instinctually gripped Orlanda's hand tighter, very uncomfortable with the stares.

"Ciao Orlanda, how may I help you today?"

"Morning to you too Toni, I just want you to style my friend's hair here."

He raised an eyebrow and smile at me, bending down to my size "Ciao Bambina, I'm Toni what's your name?"

I frowned at the baby talk, certainly not used to it but nonetheless I replied "Rue."

"Rue? That's a very pretty name."

At this I didn't reply.

"Well I'm going to get some stuff. I'll leave you with Toni, kay Rue?"

Awkward.

After washing my hair Toni bring me to a high stool leather seat. And once again I stared at the girl in the mirror. Now that I look more carefully I noticed the details; flat eyebrows, large angled eyes, the upper lip slightly thinner than the bottom's and the longest hair possible. Before I knew it Toni began snipping my hair "Aren't you supposed to ask me what I want?"

He shrugged "Sometimes it's better to leave it to the hairstyle, yes."

With each snip I felt my head becoming lighter...and lighter. I now have a fringe a few centimetres above my eyebrows and a layered hair cut, the first reaching my jaw while the second was just below my collarbone.

"There, all beautiful Bambina."

I looked a lot like my great grandmother.

"Thank...you."

"Rue, Toni are you done?"

Orlanda came walking in, beautiful as ever, with several bags on her arm.

"Wah! You look so cute Bambina!"

I took a glance at the mirror...maybe I did.

* * *

After that we said goodbye to Toni (though he seemed more intent on flirting with Orlanda) and went to more various shops. It felt...quite strange really, almost as if Orlanda was actually my elder sister. She laughed with me and helped me pick out clothes that I would never see coming. We stopped at a small open roof cafe and rested there for a while. I couldn't help but let my mind wander off at the passing crowd.

Ever since I was little, ever since before I met Blake I knew that I'm more calculating than most. I see a person or a thing and I can just tell. An ability really, but I never knew why. For instance; I could tell that the man wearing the business suit a few tables from us isn't actually a business man. The lady in front of him is genuinely rich with her lustrous salon hair, pure diamonds and a Valentino dress. But the man isn't. He may look rich but the way his hair is slowly sticking up tells me that he was wearing a cheap hair product. His fidgeting explains how uncomfortable he is in his seat because though the cafe is small, it is quite high end. And his hands, every so often they would tug at either his sleeve or collar, clearly not used to the suit. Hands calloused says that he's a hard worker for labour jobs. A part of me is feeling pity for the lady since it's quite obvious (to me at least) that the man is a con artist.

I could call myself Sherlock Holmes.

"Oregano is that you?"

Is that a blush I see on Orlanda's face? And 'Oregano'? Is that supposed to be some type of code name? So does this confirm my suspicions of her working for some type of dark intelligence? I mean, I'm always right.

So many questions unanswered.

"Ganauche," Orlanda smiled, a bright smile. Not like the usual ones she gave me where even though she tried it seemed slightly off, this smile made her beam like an angel. This smile is from her heart.

The man, Ganauche, reminded me a lot of a model I once knew from the place I truly belong. Ganauche is certainly Adonis worthy and couldn't be much older than twenty, same with Orlanda. He had black hair with blonde bangs and wore a pristine suit that shows his fortune. He could pass off as the model I once knew except the model I knew didn't have scars that looked like torture wounds nor did he have guns hiding behind his suit. His eyes were beautiful; a lightning green that (definitely a trick of the light) would radiate a spark every so often. His smile was relaxed and showed no predatorily intent. I however, knew better. Yet like Blake, like Toni, like Orlanda: he's tiered. Not in a sleepy kind of way. Just one that's seen too much for someone so young as him.

"Ah!" Orlanda blushed "Please sit down."

Oh great, am I gonna be a third wheel?

Then the two started speaking rapid Italian. Every now and then Ganauche would glance at me before turning back to Orlanda and giving a heart warming smile to her.

"Ganauche, this is Rue. Rue, this is my coworker, Ganauche III."

Ganauche smiled at me, differently from the smile he gave Orlanda. It had no ill intent nor did it look barbie fake. But it lacked the warmth, not that I can blame him since we've only just met. Nevertheless I genuinely smiled because even though I didn't know him he makes Orlanda, a person who I now categorise as a precious sister, happy. Seeing me smile, Ganauche looked slightly surprised.

"Hey...have I met you somewhere?"

I blinked "Unless you're that model then no."

"Model?" he asked himself before looking at me with narrowed eyes "I'm sure I've seen you before."

I shrugged "It's probably someone who looks like me."

A thoughtful look overcame Orlanda's face "Now that you mention it—"

She could never finish her sentence as gun shots filled the air.

Yet again.

.

_I fear many things and as life goes on I will learn to accept them. But a part of me always whispers: what if you don't?_

* * *

**SOOOO...watcha guys think? this is my first time writing a self insert and i was just so inspired by all hte others in this fandom. I hope you all vote to say who you want Rue to end up with, just private message me or leave a review. If you have any questions just go ahead and ask ;)**

**BTW anyone willing to beta for this story?**

**Question of the day: Favourite food?**

**Really hoped that you guys liked it :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn**

**Hey guys how are you? Okay, so far the canidates are:  
Hibari  
Byakuran  
Yamamoto Takeshi  
Dino**

**Keep on on voting :) and thanks for answering my question guys!**

* * *

Chapter two: Crying in need for hope

"_I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea." _

― _Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground_

My eyes widen.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Everyone keeps saying how life is like a cycle; people are born, they live and at the endpoint they die. Just when I thought my world was slowly rebuilding itself after the Blake incident everything tumbles down. I'm going to admit it: I hate guns. They make awful noises and they smelt horrible too. I absolutely despise them, they had no art, they took away my Blake, they took away my home, they took away my life. And now they're insisting to doing it again?

I know I haven't known Orlanda for a very long time but she's precious, she helped me settle in when I was confused; lost.

Bang.

My eyes widen, but all I could see was Ganauche's broad back. He was protecting and steadily I saw his hands reaching the inside of his pocket. Orlanda, who was kneeling beside us had a grim look on her face. The shooter said something rapidly in Italian and I saw the other customers and staff shivering in fear. The shooter said something that made both Ganauche and Orlanda tensed. And then footsteps, it got louder and louder till—

The shooter yanked me by my wrist and held me tightly, gun point blank at my temple. I gulped not liking this at all. I kept silent, knowing that something terrible will happen if I uttered a word. But...I can't just die! I need to find away home, I need to find Blake or Byakuran or whoever he is and I need answers! I gritted my teeth "Let me go you overgrown baboon!"

"Bambi—"

"SHUT UP!" the man roared in a very thick Italian accent "You talk one time again, I kill you!"

Okay, maybe that's not such a good idea.

I struggled harder "Let...me...go!"

BANG.

Catastrophe began.

I didn't know what happened next but I felt painPainpainpainPainpain. Cold excruciating pain. It was funny because this the first time in my life that I've actually felt this. There are no words to describe. And my vision began to blur. I tried my best to keep my eyes open but all attempts were failing. I can still hear but they were almost muted; shouts, gunshots and there was something else but I couldn't seem to hear it. I wondered if this is what people feel when they're on the verge of death. It felt as if you just want to let go of everything and sleep forever.

(My death does feel like that, except during the time I really died I felt that my sacrifice was worth it, no regrets to bound me. Unlike then.)

My vision begins clearing up and I saw a boy about four. He...I sensed a feeling of harmonising power inside of him, flaming and burning. But then an elderly man shields them and I couldn't feel the boy's warmth anymore. The man sealed his power.

"It's for your own good Tsunayoshi."

No, I wanted to scream. It's not, the boy's powers shouldn't be locked up because he's destined to build a path that will accept all and you are limiting him. Give the power back!—

"Shh..." cooed a familiar voice "you're going to be just fine."

"Or-Orlanda?" I managed to choke out.

"Si Bambina."

"Tell Blake or Byakuran or whoever he is that I..."

I couldn't finish.

"Merda! Ganauche we need your lightning flames now! Come on Rue don't give up on me! I can't loose another one!"

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Merda! Oregano hold down the wound," sparks crackled the air "I'm going to take care of them till reinforcement arrives. Now!"

The pressure applied to my wound wasn't as hard, enough to keep the bleeding from over flowing. Someone gave me an embrace an before I knew it, unconsciousness took me.

I hate guns.

* * *

The line went off.

"Time of death, 19:08."

* * *

Orlanda, known widely as 'Oregano' in the underworld is a ruthless person. Her loyalties lied to CEDEF and CEDEF only, not Vongola or the Ninth, she does however, respect them both.

Her story began years ago, in fact, it was quite ironic because as a little girl, Orlanda wanted to be an Interpol agent. She lived in a pretty well off family in Northern Italy, having a hobby for sports and technology and managed to earn a MIT scholarship. One day CEDEF offered her a job, the brighter side. It started off with normal things like paperwork, bringing in coffee but then she realised the amount of workers that came back with life defying wounds.

Her investigation began.

Orlanda asked everyone she knew though they all kept quiet. On her fifth month she met Antonio, at that point she had given up on searching and if she had gone any further she'd have to face dire consequences. Antonio, worked in a dingy bar and soon, several meeting later, the two started dating. It was sweet, although a bit one sided. Her red hair boyfriend came came from a poor part of Italy, where the farming was failing. He went to the bigger city so he could gain more money for his younger cousin and aunt.

Orlanda knew something was wrong.

Whenever she came to work and saw people injured, more wounds appeared on Toni. The seventh month, everything changed. Orlanda got fed up, she couldn't take it anymore and hacked into the CEDEF's system. What she saw changed her life, they -her bosses, the higher ups, the ones who got promoted- worked for the Cosa Nostra. Orlanda freaked out even more when she found our that Toni was also involved, a mercenary that killed anyone for money. That day, Orlanda left work early. She kept quiet and a few weeks later someone knocked on her door.

A baby.

With blue hair, goggles and a combat uniform. Beside her stood a blonde hair man wearing a suit, a lopsided smile on his face. The baby introduced herself as Lal Mirch while the man; Iemitsu Sawada.

Her boss.

Losing her job is the least of her worries, dying is. Orlanda had heard how the Cosa Nostra dealt with people outside of their circle, they disappeared. With shaky legs yet stern eyes Orlanda led them inside. She made the both of them coffee and that's when Sawada began to speak: it's rare, he had said, for someone to bypass their security. He gave her two choices either be erased from existence or join the dark side.

Literally.

Orlanda picked the second and that's when hell began. Training, everything was training, during her training she learned about dying will flames. It took a while to get used to but she finally found her resolve. Finally, Lal Mirch decided to assign her first mission. It was simple, get the info and get out. Everything had gone as planned, perfect. What she didn't expect was to see her boyfriend. Dressed in a nice suit way above his pay grade. The meeting was brief and painful. A bullet to her left thigh and a large burn mark across his back. Nevertheless the mission was successful, but her life was not.

After the first mission she was granted three days off. The first thing she did was check up on her boyfriend and surprisingly he was still in that dingy bar. It was awkward. Very. And that's when they both concluded that they should break up. Orlanda went back to her hometown and everything went downhill. Her house was in flames, her family reduced in ashes and those son of a bitches were smiling smugly. And it wasn't hot rage that overtook Orlanda, it was cool, calm anger. She killed all of them mercilessly.

That's when the underworld was introduced to Oregano.

The coldhearted bitch.

Years past and she gained rank, comrades. Every so often she and Lal Mirch would talk about boys, Orlanda would train the newbie, Tumeric and she's always be the one to finish her boss's paperwork. Her loyalty laid with CEDEF, and CEDEF only. She did however, meet Ganauche, Nono's lightening guardian. He is a looker and managed to worm his way into her comfort zone. But the two never got passed beyond that.

Years passed.

On a break Orlanda was walking by the beaches of Southern Italy, she met her; the girl who eerily reminded her of so many people. She stood there naked and Orlanda couldn't help but feel as if she needed to help the girl. The light hair woman offered help and surprisingly, the girl accepted. She was small, non-Italian, looked like a four-year-old yet has a speech pattern above her age.

And that smile.

It irked Orlanda so much, the girl was a liar and manipulative but meant well. And she was too goddamn understanding! Rue made her feel warmth, acceptance. So when the bullet hits just below Rue's breasts she panicked, thinking of the time her family died. Soon, reinforcements came and Orlanda became rigid in front of her co-workers. They took Rue to a private hospital, specifically only for CEDEF and Vongola.

Never again, Orlanda thought, will someone break her sky.

* * *

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I blinked, adjusted my eyes, tried to sit up only to wince at the pain near my chest. It was incredibly bright and the air around me smelt sterile, cold even. The room was medium sized with me on the bed, a desk, bathroom, hospital supplies and the light hair woman sitting next to my bed. You know (you probably don't) when I was little, during my past life, I wasted to become a doctor and help people. I was a healthy person and never got sick only going to the doctor for vaccination. It was kind of ironic now, I guess even though my body is internally healthy I'm prone to bullets and men in suits.

"You're awake," said a voice, Orlanda's, in relief "Never. Ever do that again." It did not surprise me that Orlanda looked fine. She had her hair back neatly combed and wore a crisp suit. Her face remained calm but her eyes told me everything. They were filled with mixed emotions, thunder's of regret, clouds of remorse and remembrance. The event must of reminded her of something because no woman-no person would be this upset towards a stranger. Oh this was bad really bad I triggered something to make her tense.

"The..." I licked my lips "...getting shot part?" she stayed silent and I couldn't help but feel bad. If I hadn't acted recklessly then no one would be hurt "I'm sorry—"

Orlanda cut me off her tone cold and foreign "'Sorry' is a sign of weakness."

"It's also a sign of strength," I said. A course of de ja vu went through me; NCIS, Gibbs, Blake— I mentally groaned, I needed to stop being so obsessed about him. "I'm sorry for worrying you. It's just I-well I'm not exactly a trained assassin," I joked looking up before shuddering at the dark aura, okay so not the time to joke "I was scared, I can't die yet..." I wasn't my time yet, my intuition literally screamed at me. My heterochromic eyes locked themselves into her pink ones, burning with resolve. I blinked, once, twice and smiled "There's a reason why and I need an answer."

"Of you not dying or you meeting me?"

"None of those, there has to be a reason why I am here," I closed my eyes before sighing "I'm sorry for worrying you Orlanda, it must've reminded you of something bitter. It's my fault."

(It hard, for someone to apologise. Because it means that the person is admitting their wrong. But acceptance, is a way to learn how to forgive.)

Orlanda almost looked stricken, her expression filled with grief. She placed her elbows onto the bed and exhaled. After pulling herself together I met with a bittersweet woman. Not the strong hardened warrior, not the kind facade-I saw a broken woman whom needed help. She licked her lips "Why? Why? Why must you be so understanding? You've only met me and yet you read me like an open book."

I shook my head "No, I don't read you like an open book. You're just like me. You lost a family," I encircled my arms around her "But you've gained a new one, you have many people love you so you're not alone Orlanda. And with me here you'll never be lonely again."

I felt an arm hug back "More attentive, never deny rules, never pull innocent in our circle. If I had just given you to the authorities than none of this would have happened," she gritted her teeth "But I was selfish and naive, thinking that I could gain a family."

I pulled back, smile turning smaller. It wasn't a surprise that she didn't have tears but you don't need tears to cry "Hey Orlanda, everything will be alright. I promise."

Something must've fixed itself in her mind because she slowly let go and pulled a strand of hair behind her ears. Orlanda softly smiled "Thank you, for many things," she stood up and wiped her hands on her pants "Alright, I'll go get the doctor now and some food."

I nodded "Orlanda?"

"Hm?"

"You're welcome and thank you too."

The door clicked closed and I stared up at the ceiling. Family. Thinking of them made me wonder. I was so tempted to grab the phone and just call them. But what will they do? I'm stuck in the body of a four-year-old. I frowned, looking at the phone, grabbed it and dialled the numbers. I tried my mother's phone first. Nothing. I tried my house phone next and beamed in happiness when someone picked up.

"Hello?" asked the caller, a foreign voice.

I got ready to deepen my voice "Hello, I'm wondering if this is the Aristotle family?"

"Ah, I'm sorry I think you got the wrong phone number," I swallowed reciting the number in my head "Perhaps...do you know if they moved?"

"No," the voice said in annoyance "Goodbye."

Thiscantbehappening! I quickly dialled my father's phone number and felt a wave of relief when a voice answered, not forgetting to lower my voice "Papa! Thank goodness, I thought that I—"

"I'm sorry who is this?"

I paled, eyes wide in disbelief. I didn't bother to close the line, knowing tat the person, the stranger, would only press the end button. I didn't feel tears nor did I feel dread. Everything was hollowed out. I thought of all the possibilities; moving home, changing numbers. Then I thought of my appearance; something seabed me, experiment gone wrong? I don't know, I can't remember! I felt rage and threw the vase. This was all his fault! If I hadn't of met him then none of this would have happened!

I needed the Internet.

Ripping the needle off of me I jumped off the bed, searching for computers. And surprisingly the wound lessened. I passed many people, the majority either wearing suits or hospital gear, some had lost limbs while others were covered in bandages. Then I saw it, my haven, a row of computers were against the wall, sleek keyboards in front of it. I eagerly walked towards it, turning the monitor on and going onto something called FlameBird. I typed in my family name, only to find information about the man and not the family. I tried my father's, mother's, brother's but everything was a nada. I looked at the date and that's when everything became clear.

The date was wrong, it was seven years earlier then what it should had been.

(Time is such a tricky thing, in the past kill an ant and you can kill an empire. In the future, read a book and the world shall shatter.)

I typed up events that should have happened during this time but nothing. The president, conspiracies, weddings; they were all blank. That little hope completely disappeared, I didn't know where I am or what happened. I felt lost, I didn't know what to do. This could be a form of dimension traveling but then what? Who cares! I still can't go home because of this cursed body.

I slumped on the chair, head bowed, staring endlessly at my hands.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing-

Except for one last thing.

I dialled a set of numbers, my heartbeat fluttering like an annoying mockingbird. It was silly, after all the information that was given back to her before there was no way that out of all people he would answer as him. But why did my hopes latch to every ring?

"Hello?" asked the caller, a mere male child.

I swallowed "I-is Blake or um Byakuran there?"

"Lu-"

"Bambina?" asked a voice that is definitely Orlanda's, she touched my shoulder "You shouldn't be up yet!"

I turned around, smile strained and eyes dimmed. I saw Orlanda's surprised expression "Sorry."

"It's okay...stay here. I'll grab a wheelchair."

Then we left, leaving the caller forgotten.

Now what? What do I do? Live with Orlanda and make her stressed, that sounded like a great idea. Running away and living on the streets? Better! Orlanda came back with a wheelchair and we both went towards the room. Silence enveloped us as I ate the mashed potatoes. "Or..Orlanda..." I began, unable to take it anymore I felt the tears and snot coming out, it was silent and I did my best not to sob "I-I *hic* Orlanda...I-I.." I wanted to tell her everything but I couldn't. It was like someone clogged my throat off.

She looked at me, not with sympathy but understanding and pulled be into a hug, whispering sweet nothings.

"Umm...am are we interrupting anything?"

Standing by the door was Ganauche holding a bouquet of flowers. Beside him, was the a person. A very, very handsome man wearing a white lab coat. His hair was ginger, wavy, effortlessly slicked back. Blue eyes under thick eyelashes. The man was tall and probably from Britain.

"Ah hello, it's good to see you awake," said the person "I am Doctor Jack Noir. I'm sorry to interrupt but I must see your conditions, make sure that everything's going smoothly."

Oh my fudging macrons, his accent. I'd be surprised if I wasn't drooling.

I hesitantly nodded and passed the plate to Orlanda. Shivering when cold hands touched my skin "That's odd...I was pretty sure..." Doctor Noir mumbled before pausing "If it's alright, may you please step outside Signore Ganauche."

"Of course."

Doctor Noir unbuttoned my shirt and I saw the bandages plus the gruesome looking blood. He helped me sit up and slowly began to unwrap them. I couldn't stop the blush rising to my cheeks. And I stared, to see my birthmark and a silver scar, but wasn't I shot? This makes no sense, ballistic trauma takes months to heal up. Judging from her age, her tissues were still underdeveloped thus she would have taken a worse damage. She would have needed therapy; the bullet cracking through her ribs and nearly puncturing her lungs. Yet, the evidence was there, only a scar.

"Oh my...this is something. How—"

"Explain."

"I'm afraid I can't Signora Oregano. It was as if she didn't receive any flesh wounds. Please stay still for a while Bambina." He took some blood samples, my temperature and heart rate. From the corner of my eyes I took a peak, everything was normal for someone my-the appearance of my age.

"Ah, o-okay," I stuttered.

This was so not sexual.

Doctor Noir re-buttoned my shirt and straightened his coat "Alright, I'll bring these to the lab. For now, get some rest." He and Orlanda exchanged some words in Italian, as soon as he left Ganauche came in, taking a seat next to me. I gave him a small smile, thanking him for the flowers.

"You feelin' better Bambina?" No, I wanted to say. I wanted to scream my frustration about how I still cared about the one person I should despise, I'm in a different time zone. Literally. And I don't think I'm even in my own world. Instead, I sucked it up and gave my signature smile "I'm fine."

Both Ganauche and Orlanda eyed me.

I twiddled with my thumbs.

"So, the event before...does it happen often?" they both glanced at each other with uncertain looks. Orlanda grabbed my hand, oh please don't let this be a sappy story, and gave me a soft almost worried smile.

"Bambina, please listen carefully."

* * *

I found out they were involved with the Mafia.

Sort of suspected that.

I told them that I'm smarter than most.

They also knew that.

(The both of them got married, unfortunately that's a story for the future.)

The hospital *cough*fuckinhotkinkydoctornoir*cough* told me I should rest for a day. And aside from Doctor Noir's occasional visits, everything was pretty boring. Both Orlanda and Ganauche had to leave for work, they would visit sometimes but barely. I'm sure that if I don't escape from this crazy place I'd die of boredom. The nurses told me that I couldn't leave due to higher ups saying 'N.O'. Only thing that kept me company were the ticking clock and a piece of paper, plus colouring pencils.

Sighing, I picked up a HB pencil and started sketching the outlines. Satisfied, I grabbed the 2B pencils, long strokes to short delicate touches. I shaded the artwork with darker tones, carefully smudging some areas. Using the eraser I highlighted the picture. Smiling I proudly looked at my artwork, ignoring the stains on my fingers and blanket. It was a simple image, nothing to extravagant, telling a sad story. A young man, scarred, only wearing rags upon his shoulders, chains encircled his ankles, in his hands was a bloodied sword.

Knock, knock.

"Come in!"

"I brought food and some clothes for you to wear," graced Orlanda's voice "how are you?"

"Bored," I replied blandly.

Orlanda chuckled, setting the bags on the floor "This'll be your last day. We'll be leaving tonight—oh my, what's that?"

I blushed immediately clutching the sketch book "Nothing!"

Orlanda smiled teasingly "Oh? Let me see," she snatched the book out of my grasp. Looked at the picture in surprised "This...is really good. Who is he?"

I blushed, twiddling with my thumbs, a terrible habit I must say "Popped up in my mind."

"What does it symbolise?"

I felt myself smile, thinking of all the meanings "The shackles represent something holding him down, the sword shows that he is willing to do anything to fight forward even if it means that the past will haunt him. The scars indicates pain, sorrow, his eyes radiates with devotion. I call this piece, the devoted sun. What do you think?"

"Right on the dot. One of my coworkers made spicy rice. Want some?"

"Sure."

I take it back.

Spicy food is the devil. I cried as I felt my tongue swelling. I gulped three glasses of water, glaring at Orlanda as she tried to stifle her laugh. In my other life-should I call it my previous life? My alternate life? I'm not sure what's real right now. But guessing from the excruciating pain of the non-existent bullet wound, this is reality. Unless, everything's all in my mind which I really doubt. Reality and dreams are such a tricky thing. Anyways, I quickly rushed to get a drink of water sighing as the numbing overtook my tongue. I looked down at the paper, feeling a melancholy wash itself on me. I blinked when a hand touched my forehead. I turned to see Orlanda with a crooked smile "Hey, what's wrong?"

(Everything.)

I gave a hesitant look, gazing down at the rice. It was kind of weird. Because when someone hears the words Cosa Nostra or simply; Mafia. They think of Chuck Norris, the Godfather, Al Capone and all that jazz. I, associated it with Blake this and Blake that. Yet here was Orlanda, acting like a big sister. Maybe I should stop holding on to the past, it'll be the death of me. And thinking about it this is like a second chance, perhaps some voodoo otherworldly power is helping. Thus I should accept this, who know's it might just help put my mental health on check. I smiled and looked at Orlanda, she too seemed lonely. If not for myself then for her. She took care of me, me, a stranger not caring where I came from. She healed me, is kind to me and even if-even if she's part of the Mafia and has killed a lot of people as cruel as it seems I don't care because she's-

(And will always will be my saviour, my Gepetto, my friend, my sister)

-ohana.

I longingly stared pass the windows, at the blue cloudless sky outside. Clenching the plate of spicy rice. What if I could never go back to my previous lifestyle? Was it okay if I became even more selfish and wish to stay. Of course I'll miss everyone but what if I don't want to go back? I mean I still miss everyone and all yet there was Blake. Blake whom I thought loved me, lied. Actually now that I've thought about it his entire existence was a big fat lie. I just wanted answers, I hated things that made me feel lost and confused. I'd rather live with the answer rather than having the question linger with me throughout my whole life.

"Rue?" I snapped my attention towards Orlanda.

"Yes?"

"You were spacing out," she said putting both spicy rices on the table. Her shoulders leaned against the chair as she held my hands "What's wrong?"

"Thinking," I offered a smile "About a lot of things actually."

"There's something that I need to tell you Bambina. You can accept or you can deny it, I asked Ganauche for adoption papers and seeing as you are an orphan I was thinking whether or not you would be my daughter or sister," she looked nervous and if not for me catching the slightest of details I wouldn't of noticed the twitch in her body.

My mouth fell, not knowing what to do. This was like betraying my family but at the same time it wasn't because it seemed like they don't exist here-wherever here was. Orlanda offered me a fortunate opportunity. I lost everything and she gave me something new. Should I take it? Could I bear the burden of my past on my shoulders? Can I let everything (Papa, Mama, the annoying hell of a brother, Blake) go? I mean I wanted to take but can I really?

"Can you-" this wasn't something I could make up my mind immediately and even if Orlanda is nice and all this was life changing "-give me more time?"

Orlanda nodded and I could see the disappointment in he face "Rue, I'm not trying to force you into anything. Remember that. Here," she handed me a bundle of clothes "I'll pick you up later. Arriverdeci."

"Yeah...bye."

Sluggishly putting the dress over my head I touched the ruffled red silk, feeling as if it didn't match me and showed off a bit of my embarrassing birthmark. I stared at my palms. Questions still looming in my head. Could I do this? Simply being with Orlanda could be the death of me. She was mafioso, binder my the omérta and even if I said no I could die due to my knowledge. So I have to say yes. Although can I be bound by chains? Am I willing to give up my freedom?

(A man I will know in the future once said that yearning for something and never reaching it will be the death of you. And I wanted freedom, I didn't want to be a caged bird longing to fly.)

No. No. No.

My answer is no.

As much as Orlanda is being nice to me, I have my own desires. Her 'Boss' could have already been informed about my non-existent bullet wound an could set up several 'check ups', I didn't want that, I'm as healthy as a horse. And what if they used my above average brain to do their dirty work? Of course Orlanda would never let them do that but who knows? Even if she depicted Orlanda as the invincible woman there are still others stronger than her. After this, where will she go? Running away sounds like an awesome idea (honestly it was) yet to where? The stories about kids running away may sound exciting but in reality, it's incredibly hard. No food, no money, no shelter and one more very important factor; mio no Italiano.

Either choices are horrible but I've already made up my mind.

* * *

I attempted to run away, managed to escape the hospital because of my awesome stealthy ninja skills. Seriously, it surprised me, in every corner-let me rephrase that, everyone there has a gun or a sharp weapon or both. I went to the bathroom the only place that had genuine privacy, got some magazines and books and a chair, stacked them all up opened the air vent and went inside. I had my my makeshift bag with me, from the hospital bed sheets, in it were small necessities. I got out and walked down the streets of Milan.

(Remember the second word in the beginning of the last paragraph?) Attempted.

Only to be stopped by an amused Ganauche, honestly though, who names their son after a dessert? It's like the whole Final Fanatsy fiasco with Lightning's real name as Eclair. I looked up, clutching the strap of my bag before giving the American salute "Sir."

"And what, pray tell, are you doing here private?" he asked, playing along.

"Permission to speak sir?" I continued.

"Permission granted."

Instead of talking I quickly bolted, one of the things I'm really good at; running. So I ran like the girl I was but was stopped by a firm grip. Struggling, I pushed, kicked and elbowed, trying to get free. As I was about to scream a large hand covered my mouth. Now, people were looking at the scene. I glared at electric green eyes and it, glared right back at me. I kicked harder and Ganauche hurled over. I smirked, I guess I got him where the sun does not shine. I fled, trying to get myself mixed with the crowd. I lost him-

-and ran straight into a brick wall.

(Recalling it now I can't help but laugh. I wasn't stopped by some ninja-spy-assassin or a deadly-don't-fuck-with-me-hitman nor the Vongola 9th lightning guardian. No, I was stopped by a brick wall. Trust me, beware their poweress!)

I groaned, pulling myself up to see the disappointed face of Orlanda. You know when you're a top notch student and one dag you did something unexpectedly bad? That's the feeling I have now. Ganauche (the sonovabitch) was nowhere to be seen and the atmosphere of the room could easily be sliced. I frowned, my dual coloured eyes staring into Orlanda's. I clenched the bed sheets and it was then that realised that I was handcuffed to the bed. Biting my bottom lip I decided to break the. Overwhelming silence "I didn't want to get involved."

"Should've guess," she spat bitterly.

I sighed, man did I fuck up "Not because of you Orlanda, but because of the lack of freedom."

This perked her attention "What do you mean?" she asked, accent thick.

"When I'm older I'll be ordered around and you know it," I quickly said the last bit before he could interrupt me "If not I'd have to spend my days worrying not only about my wellbeing but yours as well. I won't be a free person."

It dawned to her.

"Oh."

Yeah, oh.

She knew, I knew, heck everyone knows. The omerta is a code of silence and breaking it would lead to death. If I were watching the Godfather I would think how cool everything was but this is real life, the risks of me dying are high, the ricks of me being captured is high, the risk of me losing my morality is high. And if I want to defend myself I need to learn how to fight. IT's funny because all the self-defence I did in my past life was kick boxing and I wasn't even good at it. How am I going to protect myself if I don't even have the will to want to learn how to fight? She coughed to correct that mistake "Bambina, the organisation that I work for, it's one of the best of the best and I-along with many others are willing to teach you combat."

"That's it Orlanda! I'm not like you or Ganauche or Toni! I want to be doctor that saves lives heck, I don't even want to wield a weapon. I'm scared." A coward. I am such a shameless coward. I felt guilty and selfish and I didn't deserve the kindness that Orlanda gave to me. The queasy liquid inside my stomach wrenched inside. It was amazing how fear can truly change a person. My breath hitched, this was like the Blake incident and-ohmygosh I so need a life. I tensed when an Armani suit enveloped me in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry, if you want I'll bring you to an orphanage-I'll talk to my boss. I told you remember," she pulled from the hug and smiled "I don't want to pressure you into anything."

I'm such a selfish bitch.

* * *

Ganauche Jr's hobby is guilt tripping people.

Orlanda, being the busy woman she is, left to go talk to her boss or something. The Adonis worthy looking man (though never ever will be as hot as a certain doctor) sat against the chair openly reading porn in daylight, which happened to be in German. I think he had this idea that I only spoke English. For his information I can speak English, French (mother is French), Spanish (took this at school), Swahili (don't ask), Japanese (blame the manga), Korean (obsession with Korean Drama) and last of all German (origins will be explained later). Though the cover only had a picture of a flower I swear the title made me shiver in disgust. I smudged the edges of my drawings, glancing up at him every now and then.

Ganauche is a tall, broad shouldered man that can easily get any girl he wants. He has a Greek nose with a strong narrow jaw, his eyes are a bit intimidating and his hair slightly off but he was easy on the eyes. Hairline scars could be seen (if you were in the right side of the light) all over his face especially the one near his left eyebrow, they were something you'd get from close combat. Crawling out of his neck I saw burn marks, not so bad but it was see able enough due to the darker colouration it is compared to the skin. His hands though were definitely the worse; cut wounds, burn marks and bits of the skin looked a bit mutated as if it was caught in a bad electrocution. His hair defied gravity and the way that he carried himself indicated that he's strong and his history is rooted back from old money and the underworld since young. But what caught my eye the most would be the ring around his finger.

"So why are you here?" it was kind of ridiculous why I was asking when I knew the exact answer.

"You know why," he flipped a page "You're a brat you know."

"I know," there was no denying that.

"She was worried about you through the whole operation she kept blaming herself."

"I had a feeling."

(My feelings are usually right, they're often right. I'm sure that I can trust my intuition after what happened with Blake. And even in the future, my awesome-though not really- clairvoyance will help me and my famiglia. Hah, how ironic is this, back then I wouldn't even dare want to join yet here I am…)

"She was happy, with the whole adoption thing. Had her doubts but was so sure you'd accept."

"I was about to."

"What changed?" he asked momentarily looking up at his book.

"I was scared."

Ganauche snapped his book shut "Look Bambina I'm not going to coy with you. The Underworld isn't a pretty place with butterflies, heck, the only butterfly you'll see will be spying devices and means to kill people. I've been involved since I was little-"

I rudely interrupted already getting that "Just get to the chase."

"-what I'm saying is, is that Orlanda and I are strong and we, along with others, are will go protect you." Huh, that's funny. That's exactly what she said. But by 'willing to protect you' did they mean Rue or the girl that can heal herself? Because honestly why would they sacrifice for little old me? I think all their organisation wants to know is why my tissues can regenerate or something along the lines. Nothing more than an experiment. Then there was Orlanda, she knew her intentions were genuine, that the elder saw her as family. Rue frowned, looking up at Ganauche, her brows furrowing in frustration.

"You're a jerk," she muttered.

"Heard that."

"Who reads porn in broad daylight anyways?" I asked, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow "Por-" his expression paled "You know how to speak German?"

I shrugged "There's a lot of things you don't know about me. Who names their son after a dessert?"

"Ganauche is my middle name."

"Oookay, what's your first?"

"None of your business."

I paused, it's not that I didn't like our resident man named after melted chocolate. Far from it, he's megalicous H. O. T. T hot but he made me think of how selfish I am. How I lack consideration towards Orlanda's feelings. I bit the inside of my cheeks, pulling the cover over me "I hate you."

I didn't need to see his emotions.

"I hate you too."

(Hate is such a strong word, I remember every time I said it my parents would always wash my mouth with soap because to them 'hate' is a swear word.)

* * *

Doc Noir is the exact opposite of Ganauche. His hair is immensely bright and his eyes are a beautiful deep sea green blue nothing like that bastard's sick green. Ganauche left to do his very important work and Doc Noir decided to replace him. He's such a kind man and reminded me a lot of Carisle Cullen and Doctor Black Jack in one body plus the northern Britain colourings. The thing that I didn't like about him was the fact that he took blood, temperature, blood pressure, skin, hair cell as if I were an experiment. I felt incredibly uncomfortable, our eyes locked, the scene of Romeo and Juliet reinventing itself (lol). He looked apologetic, pulling a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I'm sorry."

My eyes widened, why did he apologise? Was it because he saw my fear and felt guilty? Was it because that he thinks it's his fault that I ran away? Whywhywhywhywhywhy "Why are you apologising?"

"You don't want to be here," he answered.

I sighed, a solemn smile painting itself on my lips "It's not that I don't want to be here Doc Noir, I'm just—"

He cut me off "It's because of the whole mafia thing isn't it?"

"Yes," there was no point in lying especially towards someone like Doc Noir. He sat back down and rubbed my head giving me a soft smile "It's okay to be afraid you know, this isn't something you can deal with overnight," he said "I remember the first time I got involved, not the brightest of days in my life. I had to make a critical decisions. We Mafioso aren't like what you see on T.V, we care, we have families and that's why; we do everything that we do for the people we love," he chuckled "In my whole life I've never seen Oregano so worried. It- it surprised me for a moment, but remember Bambina Oregano is willing to do everything for you, and I'm not saying you should do the same. Just take into consideration."

I gulped, man this was way too deep for my liking "Yeah but aren't you going to experiment on me? I mean the bullet wound…"

He looked surprised before laughing out loud "Bambina, trust me, in the mafia world that's the least of your worries. Everyone has abilities beyond the imagination and healing is only a minor part of it. I was surprised-yes and so was Oregano because not many orphans, with the exception of a few, has flames."

I blinked "Flames?"

Like the one Blake emits?

He winked, kissing me on the cheek "Can't tell you unless you join, I have to go now. Ciao Bambina."

"Doc Noir?" he turned around.

"Yes?"

I smiled.

"Thank you."

.

.

.

.

.

_I don't want to be lonely, I don't want to sacrifice my life but to have either one I'll need to give up another._

* * *

**So how was it did y'all like it? keep on voting to see who'll rue end up with and i'll keep on introducing more characters as the story goes along. REview totell me what you guys think ;) by the way i'll update my Kuroko no Basket Fanfic as soon as possible, perhaps this saturday or friday. So sorry for the grammar mistakes you guys! Questions of the day:**

**1. Anyone willing to be my beta reader? if so, pm me.**

**2. Chocolate, vanilla or strawberry flavour?**

**My answer to the previous question: hmmmm...this is a cruel question i like desserts, japanese, mexican and well- i don't really mind as long as it tastes good :)**


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